


Where Hearts Rest

by Voido



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Art Trade, Fluff, Hugs, Kisses, M/M, mentioned praise kink, yusuke being weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 13:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15292398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voido/pseuds/Voido
Summary: There's quite a list of things Ryuji surely hasn't been expecting tonight.One, Yusuke deciding to stay over after an exhausting painting session.Two, Akira getting quite the interesting ideas when neither of them accepts to sleep on the sofa.Three, and most importantly; being sandwiched between the two of them on a shitty crate-supported attic-bed.Funnily enough, he can't find himself minding either of those facts for very long.





	Where Hearts Rest

**Author's Note:**

> An art trade with mep which was equally frustrating and fun to do but I'm really happy about. <3

“ It ain't fair,” Ryuji mumbles in annoyance, eyebrows furrowed and arms pulled up to his body tightly. While his mind is occupied with the question of where to put which limb without getting into any awkward positions, his body is aggressively torn between freezing and melting both at once, each depending on what part of himself it's about.

The main problem – at least so he tells himself – is that he's the only one who hardly has any space to move. Whether he moves forward or backwards, in either case he bumps into someone, and considering his quite unfortunate position, he might end up touching places he simply doesn't think he should touch, let alone wants to.

“I think you fit here well,” Akira's sing-sang voice tells him, and when Ryuji looks up from the despair that is the _very same_ _Akira's_ chest, he can see a cocky grin, making him shiver and regret not at least turning around.

… actually, considering that grin, that might have been a worse idea.

“ I must disagree strongly. My body hardly feels safe or supported on this mattress.”

_ What a typical Yusuke-thing t'say, really. _

“ Ain't my fault, though!”

“ That is hard to believe, for it would fit better if you decided to sleep on the sofa.”

“ You can put your ass on that, dude! What am I, the pet dog?!”

Their bickering makes Ryuji momentarily forget about the weird position and gesture around rather wildly. He only stops right before he can accidentally smack his fist on Akira's head when his wrist is being held in the air, leaving him even less able to move than before.

“ Dude, let  _ go _ . It's hot enough.”

“ Oh? I'll take that as a compliment.”

And because he's a little shit, he smiles smugly, winks and blows a kiss — an act that Ryuji is very torn to either _really_ smack him on the head for or ignore entirely, but ends up blushing about because they're so goddamn close that it almost feels like a _real_ kiss. And he has one-hundred percent definitely never even thought about kissing Akira.

_ Maybe that’s a lie. _

He realizes that his wrist is free when the hand that had just been holding it touches his cheeks, traces the warm blush on his skin, and he can’t help but stare — at the way Akira smiles, how he raises an eyebrow, the slow, teasing way he leans in and— 

Stops right before his lips, their noses brushing, close enough to feel the other’s warm, steady breath.

Even though he would never admit it, Ryuji feels his heart beat up to his throat, tries to swallow the feeling away but fails, opens his mouth to say something, closes it shut because he’s got nothing, and eventually turns his head a little to stare at the empty windowsill somewhere behind Akira.

There’s a soft chuckle, and Ryuji can feel himself blush even harder about it. It’s embarrassing, there’s limbs and hands everywhere, two bodies pressing against his and he wants to scream and jump and run away and at the same time go on, urge both his friends to inch closer.

He’d _die_ before saying that out loud, though.

“This could work, don’t you think? Just a little closer.”

“Ain’t this more than too close already?”

He flinches when a bigger, colder hand touches his hair, combs through the short streaks, and a soft hum against his hairline assures him that he’s _not_ imagining any of that. There’s warm fingers on his cheek, cold ones on his head, a firm grip on his thigh and a soft brush against his back.

Even though he doesn’t want to, he closes his eyes and hums, feels goosebumps on his skin and knows he won’t be able to blame the temperature for them.

“Are you sure about that?”

Akira’s voice is throaty yet soothing against Ryuji’s ear, and before he can say something in return, teeth are gently nibbling on the lobe, causing a silent whimper to escape his lips. He’s not sure if he’s lost control over what’s going on or if he’s never had any in the first place, but he decides to give in, to _lean_ in and bury his fingers in to the fabric of Akira’s shirt somewhere close to his waistband, lets them linger there and hope that whatever is going on will never end, allows himself to lie back and occupy most of the space, because apparently that’s the idea.

“That’s much better.”

Warm lips trace down his cheek to his chin,  caress his neck and collarbone.  That alone is enough to hasten his breath, to make his own lips tremble and his free hand reach out shakily, but there’s more, so much  _ more _ . Fingers pushing his shirt up teasingly, just enough so that he feels a cool breeze on his skin.

He’s barely able to deal with that when there’s another touch – hot breath against the back of his neck, the edge of lips tracing along it, accompanied by hums that sound appreciating,  _ understanding _ even.

“I…god,  _ how?” _

He feels the need to say something, be it witty or angry or even supportive, but his mind shuts itself up, and all he can think about  is how good it suddenly feels to be lying here, trapped between his friends treating him in ways he never thought he deserved, warm skin pressed against his own, kisses given to him as if he were some sort of treasure.

“Relax. Just let it happen.”

He does. He tries  at least, combs through Akira’s messy excuse for hair that desperately needs a cut, chuckles at the thought but feels it turn into a moan when something,  _ someone _ grabs his hip. It’s one hand, then it’s two, one playing with the waistband, the other reaching lower, brushing along his groin making him want to jump and lean in closer but he’s being  _ held back. _

“S-stop…mocking me.”

Another chuckle – he feels it vibrat e against his thigh  just for a moment , feels firm legs cup his own,  a knee way too close yet way too far from where he  _ knows  _ he’s hard – and if anyone believes he’s blushing over  that, too , they’re  _ right _ .

Swallowing hard, he allows himself to open his eyes, stares up  at Akira only to see that  his are blown wide, his lips parted but smiling, heavy breaths escaping him. For the first time, it occurs to Ryuji that Akira is  _ not _ just being a big mean tease, but actually enjoying himself, and the thought alone is enough to deepen the blush on his cheeks and  make him  turn his head to look away.

Bad idea.

Really bad idea.

Because there to his left, hands still experimentally tracing down Ryuji’s body as if it were a piece of art, is Yusuke, narrowed eyes, concentrating on what he’s seeing, framing whatever it is before his mental eye and nodding to himself.

He looks equally pleased, in more ways th a n one, and eventually looks up to meet Ryuji’s eyes and give him a small, reassuring smile.

“The countless hours of training and effort you put into your body truly show, Ryuji. It’s fascinating;  impressive even .”

_ Holy. _

He shivers at the compliment, struggles to say something but ends up looking like a fish out of water, looks down on himself, stopping at each and every hand that’s still  _ somewhere _ on him, touching him,  _ cherishing him. _ It’s not easy to admit, but it’s appeasing in a way, so contrary to everything he’s experienced in the past. He’s used to people calling him loud, obnoxious and dumb, not fascinating and certainly not  _ impressive. _

“ He’s blushing. Does someone have a  little  praise kink ?”

“Sh-shuddap, dude!”

Maybe he does, but it’s hard not to when it’s something so rare,  unique even; meaningful  words shared between such intimacy and closeness.

“A-at least one of you planned  for  this, and that’s weird, scary and…fascinatin’,  too, I guess. .”

“I  would say it most certainly was the leader.”

“ What can I say? I didn’t  _ not _ plan for it. ”

They all chuckle  briefl y – a wholesome, fragile moment  that passes in a heartbeat, because  _ apparently _ said leader has not only planned on this, but is also still on the mission to get it somewhere. A smug smile on his face, he tucks on the seam of Ryuji’s shirt, bites his lip and hums contently at the immediate reaction – goosebumps, yet again, a visible shiver, the faint red returning to Ryuji’s cheeks.

“Control freak,” he mutters under his unsteady breath but reaches out as well, pulls on Akira’s collar for a chance to get closer, to let their noses touch again, to feel the warm breath against his lips  like before.

Except this time, Akira doesn’t stop, presses their lips together in one quick motion and lets his own eyes fall shut, leans into the kiss he’s seemingly been waiting for ever since initiating all this,  and while he’s eager,  almost pushy even, Ryuji is losing his mind, eyes wide open, unable to either return the kiss or push away.

He’s often imagined what kissing is like – soft, tender, loving – but never has he figured it would be like this, that it would feel like he’s melting under the touch, moaning into it without even noticing, leaning into it on instinct, craving more, shyly reaching out to pull the body on top of his own closer by the hip no matter how hot it already is-

It’s not enough.

Even though  their legs are entangled, bodies pressing against each other’s, hands grabbing fabric and skin, burying into it, holding it; it’s not even  _ nearly _ enough.

“ I know,” Akira suddenly whispers into the kiss as if he’ s  read Ryuji’s mind, pulls back and sits up straight, an honest, content smile on his lips before they both look to the side where Yusuke is getting up and immediately pacing around as if searching for something.

“ Sudden muse?”

“ It’s truly a shame that neither of you will ever be able to see yourselves as a united piece of art, but instead only one another.”

“Heart-breakin’.”

“Indeed. Thus, I shall turn it into a requiem for you to keep.”

_ What the hell. _

Ryuji feels the need to complain – he isn’t some sort of display-doll after all, and even if he usually doesn’t mind being Yusuke’s model,  _this_ definitely takes it a good fifteen stages too far for his liking.  But before he gets the chance to say anything, he’s distracted again by Akira’s hand drawing circles on his skin, somewhere between thigh and hip, somewhere way too close to yet way too far from where he knows his skin is scarred, rough, ugly, and he couldn’t say if he wants it to stop or to go on forever even if he tried.

“I have to agree,” Akira says with a complacent but appreciative smile on his lips, nodding to himself. “You always make an excellent piece of art, Ryuji.”

He’s blushing  _so_ badly and he hates it, turns his head away, swallows, tries his utter best to come up with words of denial, of disagreement, but when he looks back, Akira’s gr a y eyes piercing into his soul gently, Ryuji is at a loss – it’s as if this alone, the way Akira looks down at him, smiles, caresses his sides, breathes calmly, as if that is enough to make him believe that, maybe, it’s true; maybe he isn’t  absolute trash, maybe he’s worth something, maybe he deserves the warm gush of feelings rushing through his body like a  strong wave, and maybe he can allow himself to nod in agreement, close his eyes, focus on the intrusive but welcomed smell of coffee engulfing him, the vibrating breath next to his ear, the loving words, the soothing touches.

Maybe it’s alright to let go of his fears, just this once.

“Are you alright?”

The words are wary against his ear, and he nods without hesitation. He’s hardly ever been better, rarely ever been able to think of himself positively, and that’s on top of the fact that he’s never been able to bury his nose in Akira’s hair before, a thing Ryuji believes he’d more than like to get used to.

“You smell like home,” he says without paying attention, without opening his eyes, hands mind-absently pulling Akira closer, into a comforting, cherishing hug. It’s true, though, because being around Akira has meant being able to be himself from the first day on, without the pressure of having to be what someone else wants, without the need of having to shut up or accept things even if they aren’t right.

“I’m glad.”

_ Me too. _

Here, he realizes, is his place to be. Safe and secure in the arms of the person he needs the most, likes the best, never wants to let go.

“What a fine composition indeed…”

And maybe, just maybe, he can’t even find himself minding that it’s more than just the two of them – that they’re being watched, framed, kept for eternity.

When soft lips brush against the corner of his own, their noses touching and their heartbeats aligning, Ryuji knows that this is all the love and comfort he wants and needs.


End file.
